Going through this mind with a fine toothed comb, locating
the tiniest thoughts hiding within.

Finding that they are utterly intense and familiar, always
needling invisibly, keeping themselves down in interior
depths.

Yet, needling incessantly with the finding of each of them,
racing clocks of time, spreading self throughout generations.

Allowing all of them to be expressed in many volumes of
poetry, at long last resting in palms of interior libraries.

Waiting to be read and explained in educational environments.

RoseAnn V. Shawiak

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/interior-libraries/